


Spring Emotion

by PlumTea



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Combat, F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:20:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28104594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlumTea/pseuds/PlumTea
Summary: Song pays Silva a visit.
Relationships: Silva/Song | Tweyen (Granblue Fantasy)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	Spring Emotion

**Author's Note:**

> For Yul, happy holidays!

The Eternals don’t really have a schedule, despite what Siete claims. The members are free to do whatever they want, whenever they want, bar times of unanimous crisis. Song comes over unannounced the way she always does, this time with a bag full of tissue paper concealing sticks of incense and lavender soap. Silva answers the door with an oil rag in her hand, dirt under her nails, and gun parts scattered all over the table, but Song still calls her pretty.

The dinner table is usually filled with four chairs, but today they pull up one more.

* * *

Yesterday they put on their long skirts and tied their hair up as they wove through the marketplace. Those eagle-eyes never failed, where between the open boutiques Song picked out a humble little store with a tiny rack of clothes outside and shelves full of treasure inside.

Song held up fire-red lipstick to Silva’s face, pursed her lips, put it in her shopping basket. Silva spent most of her time in the store holding clothes up to her figure in the changing room mirror, trying to ignore how the crook of her arm was still warm from where Song’s arm had been looped not long before. When they emerged from a drink stall with two fruit smoothies, Silva watched Song idly kick her legs against the ledge they’re sitting on and even with the taste of ice and strawberry, her mouth felt drier than sand.

Today Song comes fluttering down from the sky, bow in one hand, a rolled up piece of paper in the other. Silva could recognize the brown parchment that bounties are printed on any day. A deadly monster lurking in the woods by a village in Auguste, having already ruined several mercenaries.

Time for the hunt.

* * *

It’s Silva who suggests a small spar to warm up. It’s Song who burns with deadly illumination as she agrees.

Arrows and bullets thunder into one another. Each shot that flew would be a fatal one, if not parried by the other at the very last minute. Snipers aren’t made for close combat, but with the thicket and rocky hills in the way, they make do. By the white coat that fluttered across her shoulders, Song had made herself known as the master of the bow. Silva’s gun, worn down with some stains from using the end as a makeshift club, was not as elegant as the pistols of the true master of the gun. Her shots didn’t explode into flower petals, but were meteors that launched straight and true.

Silva hears branches breaking and a thud and for the briefest moment, her heart stutters to a stop. But when she hurries over, brambles broken on her ankles, Song turns over from where she's fallen onto a patch of moss, laughing. "You got me this time," she says between gasps of breath, the unspoken _next time_ sharp in the air, and Silva extends a hand to help her up.

* * *

They enter the bounty's territory around a quarter to three, and walk out five minutes past four. 

A daunting target yields a hefty reward. Silva turns the sack of coins into desserts for Camieux, a new drill for Uncle Dan, fuses for Cucouroux, and a mint-green box that she holds out to Song. “You’re always the one who finds nice shops,” Silva says. The wind is caught in her throat, and her ears are burning hot. “I did some looking around, while you were gone.”

Song moves some syllables around in her mouth, but she forgoes them all in opening the box. Song leaps into the air, the wind curling under her toes. Silva is used to her seeing Song's shoes shining gold, but this time they are a flicker of moonlight in the middle of the day. A silhouette falls over Silva's face, soft amber hair against her forehead, the warmth of lips on her cheek, a moment stretching out before they head home. 


End file.
